


Attack of the Nickelback

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: On a seemingly routine case, Cas and Dean encounter an unexpected and dangerous new type of monster.Fictober prompt: “Remember, you have to remember.”Promptober prompt: Creature





	Attack of the Nickelback

_I guess I get to name it_ , Cas thinks wildly as the thing that's currently steering Dean's body picks him up and tosses him across the room like a tennis ball. He hits the wall sideways and his head takes a bad bounce on the baseboard when he lands. He feels his brain flirting with the edges of unconsciousness. To strengthen his grip on reality, he runs back over the details of the case, and the characteristics of this newly-discovered type of monster.

 _Presents like a standard vengeful spirit_ , he begins as he scrambles to his feet. The creature hangs back, gives him time to regain his balance. It's playing with him. He remembers the circumstances of the deaths that had caught their attention. “Looks like a salt 'n' burn,” Dean had declared. “Milk run. I'll take Cas. Sammy, you stay here and man the phones.”

 _Immune to salt and iron_. The case had started going cockeyed from the jump. Dean's instincts, usually spot-on after a lifetime of hunting, had sent them running towards one useless lead after another. When they'd finally tracked down the spirit, it had blown over their salt lines like they were dust. Jabbing at the thing with iron pokers didn't cause so much as a flinch.

 _Includes both physical and ethereal components_. They'd ended up throwing everything they had at the spirit, literally. Somehow, while they were lobbing handfuls of stuff out of Dean's duffel – holy water, goofer dust, silver nitrate, fucking hand lotion probably – something must have made a dent because there'd been this _noise_ like a million fingernails on chalkboards, and the thing had finally hesitated. Its form had run like hot wax and where a shimmering apparition had been hovering before them there was now a dark, iridescent puddle on the floor. In the sudden silence they could hear it dripping through the worn floorboards and into the basement below.

 _Can inhabit a host against its will and control it completely_. As they'd circled the mysterious liquid, warily attempting to determine if the spirit was gone for good, it had thrown out a half dozen stringy tendrils which had latched onto Dean. In a heartbeat, the tendrils had burrowed into him, pumping the oily goo into his flesh. Before Cas could even begin to formulate a reaction, the puddle was gone from the floor, and the creature was inside his friend.

 _Appears to give its host a massive boost in both strength and aggression_. As soon as the spirit-thing had finishing entering Dean's body, it had attacked, viciously. Cas's grace was floundering, no better than quarter strength, and he strained to keep the thing at bay. Of course there was the added complication that it was Dean he was fighting, and he could no more force himself to harm Dean than he could wish himself back to full angelic power. He'd had no choice but to restrict himself to defense, stalling for time while he tried to think of a better plan. 

No plan has been forthcoming, however, and he's starting to feel the toll of the beating he's been taking. The monster in his best friend's body advances. He feints, tries to fake it out and put some distance between them, but he's hurting and slow, and the creature is too fast. It gets both hands around his neck and starts to squeeze, and Cas hears a ringing start in his ears as his airway is cut off.

The monster leans in with Dean's face, closes the distance between them until Cas can feel its breath against his mouth. He searches those green eyes for any sign of recognition, any cause for hope, but there's nothing, just a flatness and his own reflection staring back with a panicked expression.

 _I'm dying_ , he realizes. _And this thing is gonna stay in Dean_. The first thought doesn't hurt that much, but the second one breaks his heart. Since he's begun to fall, he's come to terms with his own mortality. A hunter, Dean has taught him, always has one foot in the grave, sometimes literally. But the fact that, unless he can pull out a win here, his friend will once again be trapped inside his own skin while a murderous entity uses his hands to kill? It's unacceptable. There has to be a way to save him.

“ _Dean_ ,” he croaks, his voice wheezing through his constricted windpipe. “Fight this. If you're in there, help me fight.”

At his words, something flickers across Dean's face. For a fraction of a second, he sees his friend there, not the spirit. Cas calls to him.

“Dean, push this thing out. Take over. Remember who you are. Remember, you have to remember.”

The hands at his throat loosen for a moment, and he gasps in a breath. But the spirit fights back, regaining control with a snarl and the crushing pressure returns, worse than before.

“Beloved, _please_ ,” he whispers, barely able to force the words past the monster's hands. His vision narrows as darkness eats at the edges of his sight.

A shudder passes along Dean's body and the hands disappear. Cas crumples unceremoniously to the ground, gulping in air in huge chestfuls. Dean drops to his knees and vomits up a stream of black sludge, then he collapses onto his side.

Summoning up the dregs of his grace, he sends a jolt of power into the puddle, scorching it until it's a smoking pile of charred ash. He watches it for a moment but senses no further signs of animation, and he turns his attention to Dean.

He lays himself down alongside his friend and wraps both arms around his shivering body.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. Then he realizes what a wrong question that is, and he rephrases. “Are you injured?”

“M'okay,” Dean mutters.

“Thank god,” Cas replies, squeezing him in a gentle hug. “Thank god you're alright.”

“Had to kick 'im out,” Dean says, turning his head to face his friend. “Had to come back to you.” He presses his lips lightly against Cas's and closes his eyes.

Cas returns the chaste kiss, and marvels. _I'll be damned_ , he thinks, mentally finishing his description of the creature. _Can be vanquished with the power of true love_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/179484166026/october-27-attack-of-the-nickleback-verabadler).


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